


Shorn

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: In Nauseating Variety: Mustafar [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angel Obi-Wan, Gen, Heartbreak, Injuries Caused by Fire, Suicide, Young Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: The battle had been horrible, but the aftermath is worse.[And apparently now there's a Chapter 2, which focuses on Anakin's years as an apprentice, with some Obi-Wan With Wings fluff.  Including Sweet Clones. So that now we can have fluff leading into heartbreak. Because occasionally that's a thing I do.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wings. Somewhere I picked up a need for Obi-Wan with wings. It might not go away quickly.

 

 

He lay there gasping, shock and such pain written all over him.

Obi-Wan stared down at what his own hands had wrought, and his soul shattered.

 

* * *

 

Through eyes bleeding gold, Vader stared up at Anakin's best friend.

Kenobi's face crumpled, his wings quivered—

And then his head snapped backwards and his body lifted into the air.

Vader tried to make sense of it, but his mind was too overloaded with shocked agony—

Kenobi screamed, and a spray of blood hit Vader's face. He flinched, tasted the other man's broken despair.

Saw wings fall to the scorched ground, crimson staining the soot-marked white of the feathers.

Saw Kenobi fall, landing on his knees, head bowed, almost close enough for Anakin to reach out and throttle, but he couldn't find the strength, either physically or in the Force.

 

* * *

 

For a long moment Obi-Wan could see nothing.

The force of his heartbreak had torn his wings from him.

He could feel the blood creeping down his tunics.

And then he sensed, like a tiny candle going out, the death of Padmé and the child she carried.

Anakin growled, twisting against the smoldering ground.

Dizzy with grief and blood loss, Obi-Wan bowed his head.

He was done fighting.

He could struggle up the bank, press his back against the heated stones to cauterize the wounds. He could force himself to live, to fight until the galaxy found freedom again—

But he could find no incentive.

He had brutally wounded and condemned his brother to death to prevent him from killing any more innocents.

That would have to be enough.

Obi-Wan smelled it before he dragged his eyes up. The flame that had seized Anakin's form.

He found eyes that proclaimed just how many children he'd slaughtered, and how many more he'd be willing to snuff out if he lived, little ones who had done him  _no_ harm, were  _no_ threat to him—

“I _hate_ you!”

Obi-Wan stared at him, his own eyes dull. “I loved you. I  _still—_ ”

And then he reached the point where he could no longer give anything else.

_I'm sorry,_ he thought to the people who had entrusted themselves to his care.

Obi-Wan did the most selfish thing he'd ever done in his life.

He crawled forward and lay down beside Anakin. Embracing him, Obi-Wan surrendered himself to the flame.

The young Sith thrashed, fighting death, raging against fate—

Obi-Wan held him and burned.

 

 


	2. Prequel to Shorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What came before the events portrayed in Shorn. So yes. The story is currently going backwards. And it's going to be rather shockingly fluffy to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Anesor for setting off a sparkle cascade in my brain.

 

 

Anakin relaxed against his master's shoulder, sleep drawing heavily at his eyelids.

It was exhausting work getting lost.

And the Temple was humongous. Bigger than Mos Espa.

_ Huge. _

He'd tried to find his way back, but all the corridors looked the same, and everyone was asleep— he couldn't find anyone to  _ ask— _

The giant place alive with whispers of laughter and joy seemed so  _ empty  _ when he could  _ feel  _ that there were people, good, kind people nearby. Just terribly out of reach.

He'd finally sat with his back against a wall and buried his face in his knees.

An eternity later, footsteps brought his head up, and he saw the worried face of his new master.

The white wings rustled as he knelt in front of Anakin.

“Why didn't you wait for me?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin hung his head. “I wanted to surprise you by getting back to our rooms all on my own.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan murmured, holding out his arms.

After a moment, Anakin moved into them, leaning against him as Obi-Wan scooped him up.

_ He's so tall. And grown up. And strong. And smart. And kind. I want to be just like him. _

 

* * *

 

Anakin startled awake, the campfire casting strange shadows against the cave walls.

_ Terrible  _ things were coming. He'd seen  _ blood  _ on Obi-Wan's wings.

Stifling a whimper, Anakin rolled over to make sure his master was still breathing. Anakin could see the slight rise and fall of the wings that cocooned his master's body.

Obi-Wan stirred, squinted an eye open. “Nightmare?” he mumbled.

Anakin nodded,  _ so  _ relieved he was awake.

“Come 'ere.” Obi-Wan held out a weary arm, his wing unfurling to make room.

Anakin snuggled up beside him, tears starting to his eyes as the arm wrapped around him, keeping him safe from all harm.

_ Nothing can hurt me when Obi-Wan is here. _

This must be what it was like to have a dad.

Better still, when the wing descended, warding away the cold of the night, the feathers brushing against Anakin's arms and cheek. He buried his face in their pale softness and fell asleep.

He  _ knew  _ it was the feathers that caught the dreams that reached for him, warding them away.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan sat, drenched, his feathers sticking to one another.

His hair was shaggy now, and Anakin wondered how long he was going to let it grow. Right now it was stuck to his forehead, and he kept blinking, trying to free his eyes of the rain.

Something tiny and hard hit Anakin's head.

Then another, and another.

Shivering, Anakin wished there was somewhere with more cover to wait for their ride. Or that the ship would just  _ arrive. _

The hail grew larger. It  _ hurt  _ now. Anakin covered his head with his arms and grit his teeth against the cold.

Obi-Wan shifted beside him, and the hail stopped hitting its mark.

Anakin peered up to find the sheltering white of a wing.

His wide eyes found his master's, warm in the cold of the evening.

“What about you?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan sent him a rueful smile. “They don't bend that way.”

_ That makes no sense. Why can your wings only protect others, and not yourself? _

Why had they been made like that?

“I'm alright, Anakin. It's okay.”  
Anakin grabbed his hand and held it, wishing  _ he  _ had wings to protect his master right back.

 

* * *

 

Sitting cross-legged in a circle with the chiefs, Obi-Wan talked  _ forever. _

They were talking about something important, but they'd been talking for so  _ long  _ that Anakin's brain hurt. He couldn't make sense of any of it anymore, and he was so bored that even a nap might be better than this.

Sitting beside his master and leaning against his shoulder, Anakin thought it might offend the dignitaries if he fell asleep in an obvious way.

Keeping his own body pressed to Obi-Wan's the whole while, he pivoted around Obi-Wan's arm so his back was to the assembly, pushing against the back of Obi-Wan's shoulder. He leaned against the base of the wing, cradled on two sides now.

His eyes drifted shut as he hoped for an end to these negotiations.

A peaceful end, of course, but  _ please,  _ an  _ end— _

Feathers closed over him, concealing him from view. He stroked his fingers through them, smiling as he realized they muffled the voices into low murmurs.

_ Someday I'm going to be as great a diplomat as you,  _ he promised himself.

 

* * *

 

The mission was going about as well as they usually did, an investigation followed by some sort of confrontation.

In this case, a single security guard minding the factory.

The lone gunman's blasts strayed a little too close—

Fuel cells ignited.

A second before the fire exploded outwards, Anakin saw it coming.

He also saw there was nowhere to go.

Sixteen seemed far too young an age to die.

Arms wrapped around his chest and started to pull him around to place another body between him and harm even as wings flared up to shield the teen.

The shockwave felt like a wall slamming into him, sending both apprentice and master across the floor.

The arms fell limp, eyes stared vacantly, teeth gnawed at a tongue in pain.

Anakin scrambled up, found feathers on fire, some completely burned away, revealing scorched skin. Shrapnel had embedded itself in muscle, and Obi-Wan shuddered against the floor.

One smooth curve had a hitch in it, and Anakin feared the bone underneath might have broken.

Another blaster bolt sizzled near.

Fury flooding his heart, Anakin Skywalker sprang to take out the guard with extreme prejudice.

_ No one  _ was allowed to hurt Obi-Wan.  _ Certainly  _ not his wings.

_ Ever. _

 

* * *

 

Anakin's eyes widened as the nexu, which had been angling for Padmé, snapped its head around to look straight at Obi-Wan.

The giant cat saw wings and thought  _ bird. _

Anakin had been more worried about the woman who couldn't use the Force, but  _ now— _

The nexu made very clear to the acklay it wanted to pick  _ someone else _ , and after a heated but short hissing contest, the crustacean scuttled towards Padmé.

And then Anakin had to focus on the reek headed his way.

It was in brief glances and flashes in the corner of his eye that he saw Obi-Wan's attempts at survival. The way powerful wings struck out at the feline, the way he tried to fly to the end of his chain to get out of reach—

Anakin's distracted brain couldn't decide whether he looked like an avenging angel from one of the old Tatooine myths... or the pure sacrifice, offered up so the village would be spared.

 

* * *

 

Clone armor bearing an insignia of two wings.

A symbol only allowed to the men Obi-Wan had personally intervened to save the life of.

A smattering of instances appeared in the 212 th , then 501 st .

As Obi-Wan worked with other Jedi and their battalions...

It spread.

Most of the 212thers had it now.

Wolf Pack had some representation. Gree had the wings proudly painted across his helmet.

It became a badge of honor. A tradition spanning the entire GAR, where millions of men knew without a word what it  _ meant. _

There were men who engraved it both on armor,  _ and _ tattooed it into their skin.

The significance didn't even cross Obi-Wan's mind.

One morning Anakin woke up, found Ahsoka had painted a pair of white wings on her boot.

The day Mace Windu showed up with tiny black wings— highly stylized— on his vambrace, Anakin had to say  _ something. _

“What do you think of the wings all over the place?” he asked, trying to ascertain just  _ how  _ oblivious his former master was about the whole thing.

Obi-Wan gave him a blank look. “They're art?”  
_ Come on, old man. You're the only Jedi with wings. And the men just about worship you. And only those you've saved wear it. _

Obi-Wan didn't see.

That was okay, because Anakin  _ did. _

 

* * *

 

He hadn't been able to go  _ with  _ Obi-Wan to Mandalore.

But he was going  _ now. _

He docked with the Mandalorian ship Obi-Wan had been making his getaway in. As soon as the seal set, he was through the passage.

He found Obi-Wan standing in the cockpit staring out at the stars.

“Where is Satine?” Anakin asked, knowing they needed to  _ move— _

Obi-Wan didn't respond.

He was so still, so silent—

But he couldn't control the wings.

They shivered.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin breathed, horrified—

His master looked back, eyes large, something so broken in their tear-shrouded depths. His wings clutched around him, as if they could ward off the  _ pain— _

Anakin sprang forward just in time as Obi-Wan's knees gave out. He caught him, holding his master as a single cry escaped Obi-Wan... then another. He seemed to fold in on himself as he sobbed.

Anakin lowered them both to the floor and hugged his best friend close.

After several moments of anguish, Obi-Wan's writhing wings fell limp. Anakin saw blood— just a little— near the joint where wing met spine.

_ He was hurt in the battle,  _ Anakin assumed.

He tried to soothe him.

And for the next several weeks, watched him very closely.

Things changed.

Obi-Wan laughed less. He had less hope.

He still flew above his troops, the blazing sun wreathing him in flames, but so much of his heart was missing.

_ How much more would it take to break him? _

The question gnawed at Anakin's soul.  _ I can't let anything happen to me, or Ahsoka. Or the clones. Or the other Jedi. _

He saw the way Obi-Wan looked at them.

Anakin might not be able to feel the same way, but Obi-Wan saw the other Jedi as family. He loved them.

The pressure of keeping so many people safe was enough to make sleeping difficult.

A soft noise awoke him one night. He opened his eyes without moving any other muscles.

In the corner of their room, Obi-Wan sat hunched, his wings curled and shuddering.

Silent tears slipped from his eyes, his gaze focused on a tiny blue Satine.

_ Kark. _

Fingers that would never feel again reached up, as if in a caress. Obi-Wan relaxed into the false touch, and Anakin saw his wings flick unconsciously. And then the older Jedi hissed in pain and swiped a hand over his shoulder.

Anakin sat up.

Obi-Wan shut down the hologram, looking up in worry.

He  _ desperately  _ didn't want to talk about what had happened on Mandalore. Considering Anakin felt the same way about Tatooine, he didn't feel it was his place to force the issue.

But that last moment had been  _ physical  _ pain.

“What's wrong with your wings?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I don't know.”

It resulted in a trip down to see Kix.

A hand that had a pair of wings emblazoned on the back of it tapped at Obi-Wan's bare spine. “General Skywalker?”

Anakin leaned in close to inspect the faint gray lines spidering out from the base of Obi-Wan's wings. “What is it?”  
“I don't know. General Kenobi?”

“They've been there a long time,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his voice difficult to hear with him face down on the table.

“How long?” Kix wanted to know.

Obi-Wan shrugged, and a wince of pain went through him. Anakin certainly didn't miss it. “Over a decade. I first noticed them after the battle on Naboo.”

Anakin frowned. “I don't remember them.”

“They've gotten bigger.”

That alarmed both former apprentice  _ and  _ medic.

“ _ When _ ?” Anakin demanded.

There was a long pause, and then a whispered, “Mandalore.”

“Did you receive any injuries during either of those conflicts that could account for it?” Kix asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head.

_ Uninjured both times... _

_The only thing he lost—_

Anakin bit his lip.

“I'm going to run tests,” Kix announced, though he didn't look or sound like he thought they'd  _ find  _ anything. He turned to Anakin a worried look. “You'll keep an eye on these.”

He gave the medic a nod.

He certainly would.

 

* * *

  
He'd cornered Ventress in the lower levels of Coruscant.

She was his only lead, and Ahsoka's time was  _ running out. _

As she struggled to get away, he caught a glimpse of wings on her palm.

Insult upon injury. Not only had she framed Ahsoka— “Why did you get that tattoo?” he demanded.

“What, you think I didn't know what it meant?” Pale fingers closed over the symbol, as if to hide it from unhallowed eyes.

Anakin scoffed. “What did he ever save you from?”

“Myself.”

That took the wind clean out of his sails.

When she gave him the name  _ Barriss,  _ he didn't immediately throw it away as a lie from a former Sith. Instead, he investigated.

Thank the Force he did.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka left them.

For a few days Anakin forgot to check on the mysterious markings that plagued Obi-Wan's back.

It seemed rather unimportant, all things considered.

And then they stood alone in the endless grasslands of Utapau, night descending upon them.

“I'll take first watch,” Obi-Wan offered.

Anakin shook his head. “You may as well rest, Master. I won't be sleeping.”

Heavy silence fell.

“Ahsoka leaving wasn't your fault,” Obi-Wan spoke up, sounding hesitant, as if afraid his attempt to touch Anakin would be met with cruelty.

That realization stilled the sharp retort that had formed on Anakin's tongue. He gentled it, reworked it, and out came, “You took me in when I was a child, you practically  _ raised  _ me. How would you feel if I turned out to be a major disappointment? How well would  _ you  _ sleep at night?”

A shudder ran through Obi-Wan's wings, and his master hissed with pain as he lay down. It caught Anakin's attention. He frowned and approached.

“Not very well, I imagine,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Anakin knelt beside him and fussed with the tunics so he could see—

His heart went ice cold.

The shadows across muscle had spread even farther.

“When did this happen?” he murmured.

For a long moment Obi-Wan said nothing. And then, “You know when.”

_ It's grief. Grief is doing something to you. _

Something science and medicine had yet to offer an answer for.

 

* * *

 

The silent malady caused Obi-Wan a low-level, continuous pain.

At times, Anakin could see it.

There came a time when he had to look away.

As he murdered Obi-Wan's family, knowing the heartbreak he was inflicting on his best friend—

He couldn't let himself imagine the pain taking Obi-Wan to his knees.

As long as his loved one lived, the loved ones of everyone else in the galaxy were available for slaughter.

Obi-Wan would endure the pain, like he always did.

Anakin vaguely wondered if Ahsoka would make it out, considering she was with members of the 501 st at the moment. 

He wasn't dumb enough to miss the fact that the men weren't fighting the murder of their friends and heroes.

He  _ heard  _ the mutters of, “Good soldiers follow orders.”  
He remembered Tup.

He let it continue. He let these loyal, beautiful minds be broken and forced to murder the people they loved. He turned three million of them over to a lifetime of agony and self-hatred.

Maybe Ahsoka had survived.

Maybe she wouldn't.

It didn't matter how many friends he needed to stab in the back, as long as he got to keep Padmé.

He couldn't live without her.

Obi-Wan would likely see the trail of horror he'd left in his wake, see that it would only  _ continue— _

He would feel a need to  _ stop  _ him, would know that  _ nothing  _ could deter Anakin Skywalker from a goal he'd become obsessed with—

_ If you resist, I will kill you. _

Some part of him, buried deep inside sobbed and begged him to stop.

He hunted it down and slit its throat.

Soon, even Padmé's tears would no longer be able to touch him.

 

  
And on the far side of the galaxy, the jagged score lines in pale skin took one step closer to completion.

In harmony with Obi-Wan's soul—

They cracked.

 


End file.
